


Experiences of Victor, a Frenchman (English Ver.)

by spatsso



Category: Historical RPF, Historical Work, No Fandom, People's History
Genre: Battle Of Waterloo, Drama, F/M, Fighting, French Revolution, Invasion of Russia 1812, More Characters If You Read, New Friends, Some Humor and Comedy, The First French Empire, long story
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-09
Updated: 2019-06-09
Packaged: 2020-04-23 10:21:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,271
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19149097
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spatsso/pseuds/spatsso
Summary: Victor was born in Blois in central France to Antoine Bonhomme and Roxane Desrosiers; a respectable and adequate family that owns a fishing industry, he is a kind and honest young man, and he cared about the well-being of other people. Victor is also literate. Throughout the years of study, he was fascinated when he read books about literature, history, anatomy, and agriculture.Victor liked to go outside when he was younger. When he aspired to become a writer, he put his personal experiences and everything that he could write in his books and pamphlets.It was 1792. As time progresses, Victor creates new acquisitions for himself, along with his troubles and inconvenience.Focusing on his life story and of his followers and friends, as a lower-middle-class bourgeoisie in Blois, he will eventually become a serviceman and rank up the social and military hierarchy in the times of the French Revolution and Napoleon.--------Status: Still going! I plan to redo all of the chapters in summer because I have to do many things before summer!Ready to get some work done! I'll have to revamp all of this as I think it's not.. for a lack of a better word - good. -3/15/2020





	Experiences of Victor, a Frenchman (English Ver.)

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first thing I have ever written. But I think this should be good!  
> There may be some historical inaccuracies, and I am open to criticisms!
> 
> I'd like you to have a nice time while reading.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (6/23/2019)  
> So, I have devised a plan to rewrite the first chapter, up to the third, but the same outcome and story.  
> First chapter revamp - done.

It was the beginning winter of 1792, and Victor lived in the hillside city of Blois, his house near the river. He had a home, a two-story house that suffices for adequate living. Currently, he lives alone in his home right now, because his mother traveled to Paris for a significant occasion. The floors are planked, the window panels were in the exact position to reflect the sun's light to the drawing room, but it was night time, so no sun is shining.

Being somewhat a part of the revolution, even if he didn't want to be, he still doesn't refuse calls in events.

After dinner, Victor was sitting on the sofa, with legs crossed, reading a pamphlet. Before him, sat the warm fireplace. He is dressed in white breeches, white knit stockings, low-heeled black shoes, and a white shirt with cuffs under a copper-colored waistcoat, sitting comfortably. He then heard three hard knocks coming from the door, he stood up and walked to the door, and Victor opened it with haste, to quickly check who it is.

#### Victor's P.O.V (Point Of View)

I saw him, and he dressed in a black coat with large cuffs and deep pleats from both sides of the waist to the gilded hem at the rear, white breeches, white cravat, and his waistcoat's color was to match the color of his gilded hem. His buckle shoes were snowy as well as his breeches.

"Oh, it is you, Andre." I greeted my friend with a smooth voice, "Good evening, Desrosiers." and he greeted in return. I looked around at the outer land for a few seconds and recommended that "Andre, you should come in. It's cold outside." and then, "Precisely, Victor. I came here to tell you important news, and to give you a personal letter." as he walked inside. We came in the front room of my home, and he sat down in one of the two armchairs. I sat on the left one, facing him. He put his bag on the table to rest his shoulders from the long travel. Damn that manner, who knows where he could've put his bag on?

"So, what are the important news that you had told me about?" I asked.

"General Dumouriez went on the offensive in the Austrian Netherlands, winning a Victor over the Austrians at the Battle of Jemappes." He answered.

"That could be the battle which settles France's war against the coalition."

"Not very certain, Victor. It wasn't an impressive victory for the French, the Austrians lost about thirteen-hundred men, while us, the French, lost two-thousand men, and had been unable to prevent the escape of a much smaller army defending a dangerous position, however in the context, it was a major achievement for the men." He reassured me.

"Thank you, Andre. I haven't been getting facts any lately, and by the way, you could've come earlier."

"You're welcome, and, I thought of that but delayed for a later date. I was fixing my amends from an accident, and I did many other things else."

"I understand, Andre, though-- agh, nevermind." I stuttered and mentally slapped the negative thought away from upbraiding him overtly.

"So, is there any more information that you wish to tell me, or to give me?" I asked.

"Hé, your mother Roxane asked me to convey her letter to you, here it is." He informed me.

I beseeched, "Letter? Let me read it."

He reached for his rucksack, and found the letter, he grabbed it and gave it to me. I recognized that it is my mother's handwriting, as shown in the paragraphs written in the letter, I read:

**_Dear Victor,_**

_I'm writing to let you know that there has been one's passing._  
_As you know, I went to Paris to do urgent errands, and your father went on for a long journey through the seas from his docks in Poitou to London to visit his niece and his sister._  
_Even though it is winter, he insisted on coming with his sailors._  
_The taxes have been hard, but enough. Is what he said to me before leaving._  
_Yesterday morning, your father had a misfortune, which is the fatal stroke that he met his tragic demise._  
_He got it when he was traveling on the way back to Poitou._  
_I'm afraid, Victor, to write to you that your father **is now gone,** but there is a letter that he wrote for you before he sailed to London._  
_Tell Andre about it, if you've finished reading._

**_All the best,_**

**_Your beloved mother, Roxane._**

I have finished reading the letter, suppressing my tears from coming out of my eye, with my hand closed, covering my mouth.

With a horrified expression that I put on my face, I told Andre about my father's letter, and he reached for his rucksack again and gave it to me.

I unfolded the letter, and I read:

Dear Victor — if I'm going to be a goner before or after this sail, you better pay the taxes.

I chuckled at the last line after the second comma, and I knew that he would still knack up with his jokes to me.

To be actual, you have to. The taxes are rising, so is the inflation in France, and by no doubt that I would let you and Roxane take over my fishing industry.  
I trust you, Victor, especially you have a big thing for economizing. The King won't exempt most of the people from taxes.  
Before I'm dead and I'm gone, this may be the last letter I ever write.  
You will keep things in order, our industry, your coexisting surroundings, and much importantly, our family and ties.  
I recall that you have no relation with any lady yet. Hah, you may keep this letter in your valuables, as it is from me, your father.  
No matter what, if it does happen, I'll still be close in your heart and memories.

I love you, Victor, thank you for being a great son.

From your ever humorous, but an ephemeral father, Antoine.

Another relationship joke, funny, father, but the last line hit me very hard. Must've my father been serious about telling me this, I would have cracked my eyes to let tears out, but I did not. Instead, my emotions feel mixed between happy and sad. My father had a skill for making somebody happy and sad at the same time. When I was a child, he said to me that that's one way how my mother and your father met, and also one of the reasons why they married. He knows he has a sickness, but he insisted on going anyway.

I folded the letter and put it on the table.

"Thank you, Andre, for sending me the letter, even if it was bad news." I thanked my messenger friend.

"It is not a slight problem for me, being diligent and as a republican messenger."

I nodded and proceeded a few seconds of silence, and I said:

"If that's all that you have to tell and give me, then you are already obliged to leave for your other occasions."

"Yes, that is all, Victor." He said, as he stood up and looked at his map.

"All right, Andre." I chose not to be silent.

He was looking at his map, visibly perplexed about; trying to figure out where he should be going.

"Need any help? You seem to be confused." I said.

"Yes... No, I think I got it." He answered.

"Be careful outside, and aware, I don't want you to be injured, or in any worse cases."

"Don't ever be worried, Victor, and be glad that you've taught me some of your moves." He said with pride.

"Hahaha, all right." I laughed.

"We'll see you at your father's funeral, yes?" He said as he walked to the door, telling expected for the funeral.

"The funeral? Certainly, yes."

"Okay, we're good, and I'm leaving now. Goodbye, Victor!" Said with his voice aloud, and with "Goodbye, Andre." coming back from me.

Andre only came in my home rarely, mostly to send me important messages, or rather, calls or messages from the Montagnards. This time, I think he'll be there at my father's funeral.

He took his last glance at me with a smile and closed the door with a gentle sound of a door closing. At that moment, that is when I sincerely thought of the drastic changes in life. I wanted to stop ruminating about this.

My solution to stop the deep thought was to read a book that can take my mind off of the death of my parent, Antoine. I went to the library room from the three rooms of the antechamber and got a book that has several pages, covering a history-with-humor type of subject. I have read it until the last page, and it had comforted me up many, I was motivated to read another one, went back again from the library room and got a storybook, it was about a man and a young lady, meeting in rather odd ways. I somehow got interested after three pages and thought of continuing read it, but I remembered what reality was, I looked at the clock to see what time it was.

In the cold night, the time is fifteen minutes before eleven, as shown in the clock. I took my father's letter, and my mother's too and stood up, I extinguished the fireplace and put the candles off. I walked to the antechamber. I wanted to relax my mind from the devastating message, so I thought about playing the piano. I went into the Chambre de musique, went to the stacked piano sheets on the shelf and took four sheets, and then I briskly walked to the piano seat. The sheets that I have played were all uncomplicated, acknowledging, my helping friend had taught me how to play the piano, and that friend is surely not Andre. 

All the four sheets that I have picked were simple because I am not yet able to perform delicate, tangled sheets.

Amidst playing the third sheet, I stopped. I needed to rest, and I wanted to go into somewhere else, being relatively tired from the keys I'm pressing. My mouth felt a little thirsty, to be sure, so I stood up, put the notes back on the stacked sheets on the shelf, and left the chamber. I walked through the antechamber, looking at my father's painting, and then through the long hallway, with the idea of walking into the dining room to drink water.

"Funeral tomorrow, a big day ahead of me." I whispered to myself.

Then, throughout the halls, for I went in. In the dining room, I walked to the pantry and grabbed a water glass, poured water in it using a pitcher, and brought it to the dining table and the lanceur as well. I sat down on one of the chairs assigned for the table and drank the water. I poured the water down from the lanceur to the water glass again and drank the water again. I did this again for the next two pours of water, and that resulted in me from drinking four glasses of water. I stood up, went to the sink and cleaned it with a small towel, and put it back in its place, the lanceur inside the pantry closet, I also took **a dagger** to bring it to my room. 

I left the dining room and put the lit candles off too, walked through the hallway, looking at the night through the full crescent windows. I entered the antechamber and looked at the paintings again, and especially my father's. It is one of my memories to him. I put the candles off in the antechamber and then went into the front room, and I noticed that one of the candles at the very corner is that I forgot to put it out. I have checked if there were candles still lit; I have not found any, so I decided it would now be the appropriate time to go upstairs. I looked at the clock first, and it was two minutes past eleven, went ahead to climb the stairs, once I have got up there, I walked to my room which was just about nine feet away from me, and I went into my room, with a heavy sigh.

I walked to the dresser, which was beside the bed, the bed being at the left corner of the room. I put the candle on the dresser, and on second thought, I changed my mind and put the dagger inside the bureau instead, I sat down, searched and looked at the papers that I have written for tasks and for the things I'd like to do when writing. I'm sure that I also spent time with the papers, the same that I did with the two books earlier eight. I wrote some things that I have forgotten to write in and remembered to have to put it in, and eventually, I put the papers back inside the bureau and put the ink and quill hidden from the table's first view. I went on to recline on the bed, and finally, have given myself rest.

I yawned, grabbed and blew the candle and quickly put it back on the dresser, and the handle for the candle had wax dripping from the candle. I had pondered for some time before going to sleep.

_"I will never forget those days, father."_

I closed my eyes, the last for the night.

**Author's Note:**

> If you actually read this until the end, I'd say, thanks!
> 
> Chapter 5 will be posted in mid-December, probably.


End file.
